


What The Darkness Heard

by princeunderthemountain



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, my wierd AU where thorin isn't as much of a dick as he usually is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 04:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princeunderthemountain/pseuds/princeunderthemountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night after the Dwarves visit Bag End, Bilbo is having trouble sleeping. As it turns out, he's not the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What The Darkness Heard

It had been a long day, to say the absolute least.

Surveying the damage had been nightmarish. it would take months to restock the pantry to how it had previously been. Plumbers would need to be hired to fix the catastrophe in the bathroom. Woodworkers for the furniture, waxworkers to replace the used candles, and maybe even an undertaker when Bilbo’s heart gave out from exhaustion.

Then again, how else would one react to having thirteen dwarves descend on ones home like a flock of ravens?

It was almost two in the morning by the time Bilbo was able to retire to his room. He'd had a long chat with Gandalf about his involvement in this quest, but it was of no use. Bilbo didn't want to say he was afraid...but the truth was, he had no other word that really came close to what stayed him from leaving.

He would not be accompanying the dwarves on their quest. He had agreed he would make them breakfast in the morning (an arduous task in of itself, he had discovered) and see them off. That would be the extent of his involvement.

The dwarves filtered away in to the house after hours of singing low, desolate songs in the sitting room. Songs about mountains and dragons and long journeys home and long-dead adventurers. Songs that called to the soul and demanded its attention.

But, as much as bilbo enjoyed the music, as sad as it might have been, even dwarves must sleep.

He discovered that night something he had never known he would discover - to a dwarf, a bed can look like anything. A chair, perhaps. A little bit of hardwood floor with a thin blanket. He admired their hardiness, but his own comfy bed with its fluffy down pillows and bed warmer filled with coals called out to him with a siren's song.

And so it was there, at two in the morning, absolutely drained and unable to sleep. He tossed and turned and beat his pillow. He tried reading a bit from his book on anatomy (a gift from his great aunt that always made him tired) but even it was unable to lull him along.

At almost four in the morning, he had the idea that perhaps some warm milk would be good for this. It wasn't his usual plan of action for sleeplessness, but it was well known to help others. Surely it would help him.

Wrapping his dressing gown around himself and bundling up, he opened his door and trod across the hall to the kitchen. Through to the sitting room, he could see dwarves littered across every piece of furniture and on the floor, like pebbles strewn by an enormous hand. It might have looked like the aftermath of a horrible accident were it not for the lack of blood and the snoring. He didn’t need to check on them to know that they were sleeping soundly. As Bilbo began stoking the coals and fetching utensils to no reaction, he realised that dwarves were not creatures who were light sleepers.

Stirring the pan of milk on the hob, it occurred to bilbo that it would be a shame to leave the milk plain. Crossing to his extensive spice rack, he started picking out ingredients that would turn the milk in to something a bit more substantial. A stick of cinnamon bark, vanilla seeds scraped from their black pod, even a bit of his precious brown sugar that he could only buy from a travelling saleswoman who came to The Shire once a year. He never expected her, but news of humans passing through Hobbiton travelled quickly, and Bilbo could always find her before she left for Bree.

He was dipping in to a store that was already mostly gone, but he definitely knew he deserved it tonight of all nights.

The end result was rich and resembled pale brown cream, and gave off a heavenly scent. It was only when Bilbo was pouring it in to one of his favourite mugs that he realized he had made enough for half a cup more.

 "Oh well. All together, it should be good enough to knock me out." He whispered to himself as he fetched the second mug.

Holding the two mugs, he stole back to his room and settled in to his bed. He was bringing the first cup to his lips when he heard the humming.

It took him a second, but he realised it as the song that the dwarves had sung first that evening. The one that told the story about Smaug. It was coming from next door, which meant it was Thorin who was still awake.

 

_Far over the misty mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away, ere break of say_

_To find our long forgotten gold_

 

Bilbo hesitated, but eventually picked up that second mug and moved out from under his many blankets. Putting his dressing gown back on, he went out to the hall and stood in front of the door to the room Thorin was in.

Bilbo mused to himself, thinking how odd it was to be scared of the king. He was not scary, just charismatic in his very specific way. He was the kind of person who, as soon as they walked in to a room, owned it. It was just his personality.

At least, that was what Bilbo told himself before knocking on the door lightly.

For a moment, Bilbo thought Thorin had not heard him (and he scolded himself at how ridiculous it was that he was scared to knock again), but the humming had ended the second his  knuckle hit the wood.

 "Come in." The coarse voice from within stated.

Bilbo managed turning the doorknob with a mug in his hand and pushed the door open just enough to let himself in. He closed the door immediately.

The king was sitting up in the bed, stripped of his layers of clothing and armour. He was wearing only a deep blue tunic. Bilbo assumed he was wearing sleeping trousers, but the sheets covered him to the waist. He was leaning over towards the bedside table, his hand outstretched to his axe.

 "Hobbit." Thorin stated, his hand retreating from the weapon.

 "Were you expecting an enemy?" Bilbo asked, incredulous.

 "I just-"

 "An enemy who knocks, no less?" Bilbo asked, laughing.

 "I guess not." Thorin chuckled.

 "I come bearing warm milk." Bilbo said, holding up the mugs, "I heard you humming, so I figured maybe you couldn't sleep either."

 "Oh! Thank you!" Thorin replied, sounding surprised. Bilbo held out the full mug, and Thorin took it, bowing his head.

Bilbo took the chair from the desk facing the wall and turned it so he sat facing Thorin. He drank, the warmth of the milk spreading through his body.

 "Thank you for-...by Mahal, that is amazing." Thorin interrupted himself, staring down in to the mug with amazement. He drank for a second time, much more deeply. Bilbo laughed.

 "Pretty good for a grocer, huh?" Bilbo asked, nodding.

 "Ver- uh, yes. Very much." Thorin stumbled, being caught by the use of the insult he had made earlier.

 "Mahal? Who is that?" Bilbo asked innocently.

 "It is our name for the one you call Aulë. The Maker.”

 "Ah, that makes sense."

There was a long period of silence where they both drank. Bilbo finished the much smaller amount of milk in no time, but he kept feigning sips. He wasn't entirely sure why.

 "This really is amazing. Bombur would probably be very gracious if you gave this recipe to him."

 "I'll do it in the morning, after I've made everyone's breakfasts." Bilbo said. He set down his mug and tilted his head back, closing his eyes and sighing deeply.

 "You seem tired enough. Why can't you sleep?" Thorin asked.

 "Oh...who knows. Every other time a party of dwarves begging me to help them slay a dragon has come around, I've been able to sleep perfectly." Bilbo replied, and they both laughed.

Bilbo swallowed hard, and his head snapped back down. He looked over to Thorin's axe laid across the bedside table. With both hands and a lot of effort, Bilbo heaved it up and in to his lap. His fingers traced the designs on the metal.

 "Imagine me with one of these. Eru..." Bilbo said, and the chuckled.

 "You would learn. In time, but eventually."

 "I doubt that."

 "I don't make a habit of lying, Bilbo Baggins." Thorin replied.

Bilbo put the axe back on to the table, more sliding it off his lap than actually picking it up.

 "You were right. I'm a grocer, nothing more.” Bilbo stated, still looking at the axe.

 "I'm...sorry...that I said that." Thorin replied quietly.

 "Do you want me to come with you all? Bilbo asked, straightforward.

Thorin looked in to his eyes. Bilbo noticed that they were the same shade as his tunic.

 "We need a burglar." Thorin replied solemnly.

 "Well I'm less that even than a warrior, aren't I?" Bilbo asked.

 "Gandalf seems to think you are, and as much as I do not trust his judgement - I mean, Mahal knows what he's stuffing in to his pipe - I would not doubt the word of a wizard. He thinks you are right, and who am I to say otherwise?"

 "I don't know, Thorin. I just imagine myself setting out on that road and...and what? There are so many things out there that are baying for my blood, it is ridiculous."

 "That is why you learn to arm yourself-"

 "But that's not going to work is it? I'm weak! I'm not made for fighting!"

 "I think you underestimate yourself."

Bilbo closed his eyes, and then sighed deeply again. He could feel the milk starting to effect him.

 "Yes or no, answer me honestly. Do you think I would survive if I came with you?" Bilbo asked gravely, saying each word slowly.

 "Of course you-"

 "You said it yourself, you don't make a habit of lying. Honestly." Bilbo interrupted.

Thorin's eyes locked with his.

 "Yes." He whispered.

Bilbo was quiet for a long while.

 "Are you done with that?" Bilbo asked, nodding to the mug in Thorin's hands. He handed it over.

 "It's nice to know that everyone has much more faith in me than I do." Bilbo whispered, standing.

He walked to the door, his head hung. As his fingers slid over the doorknob, he looked back to see if Thorin might have wanted to say anything else.

He was curled up. His front to the wall and his face buried in the pillow. Knowing dwarves, he was probably already asleep.

"Good night." Bilbo whispered, turning the doorknob and leaving the room.

Bilbo went out to the kitchen and deposited the mugs in the sink. He was too tired to wash them out now.

Bilbo braced himself against the sink and exhaled deeply. When he inhaled, his frame shook. To anyone, it might have looked like he was about to cry.

Bilbo nodded to himself, unsurprised that he'd messed this up as well. Heaviness settled in his chest when he realised that tomorrow morning would probably be the last time he would ever see Thorin.

Bilbo shook his head and stepped away from the sink. He looked towards his bedroom, and it never looked more inviting.

It was a long while later, when Bilbo had fallen in to slumber and all of the fires in the house had died to embers, that Thorin turned over and faced the ceiling. He had not slept at all that night.

 "Mahal...I keep messing things up." He whispered to himself. This whole concept of a quest, of assembling a team, of become the king he was "meant" to be...how would any of this turn out well? In his mind, he could see the tombstones, etched with the names of those who now slept in this house. He was terrified, and regretting everything.

He was surprised to find that the one thing he was regretting the most, however, was that tomorrow morning would probably be the last time he would ever see the hobbit.

 "Goodnight, Bilbo Baggins." Thorin whispered.

Only the darkness heard him.


End file.
